


Heart Pusher, Love User

by pushkin666



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bandslash, Broken!Pete, Bruising, Dark, Just plain nasty, M/M, Pimp!Patrick, Roleplay, Spanking, whorefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2009-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/pseuds/pushkin666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark Fic. Pimp!patrick, broken whore!Pete, implied spanking, dressing up, roleplay, bruising, whorefic.</p><p>You do anything long enough to escape the habit of living until the escape becomes the habit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Pusher, Love User

Pete stumbles slightly and the hand around his wrist tightens, stopping him from falling onto his face. For a brief moment he contemplates pulling his arm away but he doesn't. After all, he thinks, what's the point! He says nothing though; doesn't thank the other man. He would rather fall than be helped by Bob. Bob isn't his friend, Bob is his watchdog; Patrick's enforcer who ensures that Pete doesn't get too 'damaged' by his clients.

The only person who is allowed to damage Pete on a regular basis is Patrick and then it's as much mental torment as physical. Oh Patrick will hurt him, Pete won't and can't deny that. Patrick likes to see the bruises where his fingers have pressed into Pete's hips, the marks where his teeth have bitten into Pete. Patrick likes to punish Pete with his bare hands, bending him over and spanking him but it's normally nothing more than that. Pete supposes he should be grateful that when Patrick is really angry Brendon is his chosen target, his whipping boy! There's a certain type of customer that likes their boys both pretty and injured, and Brendon fits that requirement perfectly.

Pete doesn't know what it was that brought Brendon into Patrick's orbit and he doesn't really want to. Once upon a time he might have cared, would have been interested in hearing Brendon's background and learning what made him tick. But not now - as far as Pete is concerned these days he doesn't want to know anything. He asks Patrick as little as possible about the other whores, doesn't even ask questions anymore about his clients or what they might require of him. If it's anything out of the ordinary then either Patrick or Bob will tell him what he needs to do to keep the client happy. He doesn't care though, he hasn't for a while. It's weird but Patrick has recently been asking him how he feels - as though Patrick is actually bothered about his thoughts or his wellbeing . Pete isn't fooled. He knows Patrick is only concerned about the money that Pete earns for him. He is a commodity to Patrick, nothing more and that hurts more than anything else.

They've been friends for years. It seemed as though whenever Pete had a problem Patrick would be there for him, sorting it out. Helping him. Getting him drugs, lending him money to pay off debts and being there when Pete's parents finally threw him out, no longer prepared to deal with a junkie son whose associates would come to their home threatening them for the drug money that Pete owed. Patrick, his closest and best friend at that time, had let Pete stay with him. He'd fed Pete and hadn't banned him from his bed, something that Pete feared at the time. He'd even provided the drugs that Pete needed to deal with life on a daily basis and helped him to earn money. It was only later, when Pete turned around and really looked at things, at what his life had become that he had realised Patrick was no longer his friend or lover; but instead his supplier, his pimp and his keeper.

Bob pulls him slightly to one side of the corridor. Pete lifts his head and focuses on the figure moving toward him. Mikey. Another of Patrick's stable of whores. He nods his head as Mikey walks past, a nod that's returned in silence. They dare do nothing more, especially not with Bob there. Patrick is well aware of the attraction that Mikey holds for Pete. Patrick knows full well that once upon a time, when Pete was his own man, free to do what he liked, Pete would have gone after Mikey and tried to woo him. Pete likes to believe that Mikey wouldn't have been able to resist his charm or his smile, would have been in Pete's bed before the night was out. Pete always thinks Mikey would have been somebody he treasured, that he would have wanted to keep him both in his bed and by his side for a long time.

There is no chance of that though. Mikey is here working for Patrick for one reason and one reason only, to ensure that he gets a regular supply of drugs for his brother Gerard. Pete knows that Patrick was Gerard's pusher. That when Gerard could no longer afford to pay for the drugs he desperately craved Mikey had stepped in to help his brother. Mikey's pay is always in drugs rather than cash and from the bag he is carrying it appears that tonight he's had a good night.

Pete is also aware that Gerard is not only Mikey's brother but Mikey's lover as well. Patrick took great delight in advising Pete of that little fact. He'd happily told Pete that there would never have been a chance for him to become Mikey's lover, not whilst Gerard was in the picture. Mikey already had one junkie for a lover; the last thing he needed was another!

Bob quietly closes the door behind him as he leaves the office having safely delivered Pete into Patrick's presence. Pete looks up in surprise. He's been so lost in his own thoughts he hadn't even realised that they'd arrived. Pete presses back against the closed door and watches Patrick. He's nervous, just like he always is when he's around Patrick. His hands are sweaty as he waits for Patrick to deign to notice him, and he wipes them surreptitiously on his jeans, his eyes fixed on Patrick's bowed head. He hopes that this won't be one of those nights when Patrick feels an urge to examine him. His last client was Gabe and Gabe has a nasty habit of taking his temper out on Pete; never bothering to hold back if he's annoyed. He's marked Pete tonight, in more than one place and every last bruise was intentional.

Patrick likes it when Pete's clients mark him. He has told Pete more than once that he likes it because it reminds Pete of what he is, shows him exactly where he stands. Those visible, painful blemishes serve as a stark reminder that Pete is nothing more than a junkie whore. And of course Pete knows that Patrick enjoys putting his own mark over theirs, so that the bruises on Pete's flesh are made by Patrick's hands; shaped by Patrick's fingers and blotting out the marks below.

So no matter what Patrick might say or how he may appear annoyed that a client has marked his property, Pete knows that Patrick loves it when Pete's skin is blemished and marked. Pete thinks it makes Patrick a sick fuck. Not that he'd ever say that aloud though. He's not that stupid.

It isn't that long before Patrick looks up and takes notice of him, although it feels like forever to Pete. He tenses as Patrick's gaze runs over his body and Patrick smiles. It's a normal smile, nothing dark or unpleasant about it. It's just a smile. But Pete knows what Patrick is seeing. How he looks - the tight girl jeans hanging low on his hips, pink tee-shirt tight and showing his hipbones, his skin tanned golden from being out in the sun and his tattoos dark and clear against the pale pink of the tee-shirt. His hair is tousled where fingers have gripped it, and his eye make-up is smudged. His lips are swollen from sucking and being bitten and there are bite marks on his neck. His hips are marked with finger shaped bruises from where Patrick gripped him earlier, while brutally fucking him. As he always does before Pete goes out to work!. He looks like a used whore. Nothing more than that!

"Pete." Patrick is still smiling and Pete feels his nervousness spike still higher. He tenses further as Patrick stands up and moves toward him. He instinctively presses himself further back against the door and Patrick's smile widens. He stops in front of Pete and Pete holds himself still, he's pliant as Patrick pushes his head to one side examining the bite marks made by Gabe. Pete swallows and drops his eyes as Patrick's nails dig into his jaw hurting him. Patrick lets go of Pete's jaw but before Pete can say anything Patrick's hand smacks hard across his face. Pete gasps in pain and surprise but he doesn't move. He's not a fool.

Pete keeps his eyes down. He can feel Patrick staring at him but he says nothing, still not sure what type of mood Patrick is in.

"Look at me." Patrick's voice is deceptively soft yet still Pete obeys.

"Good." Patrick runs his fingers over Pete's jaw and down his throat, letting them rest against the beating pulse on Pete's neck.

"What a pretty thing you are, all used and abused." He laughs and Pete relaxes.

"Now," Patrick continues. "I want you to go and get yourself cleaned up. Have a shower and then I want you to get dressed and wait for me in the other room like a good little girl. I've put your clothes out for you."

Pete swallows. Oh god! Patrick wants him to dress up. It's going to be one of those nights when he has to take on the alternative role that Patrick has prescribed for him, act out a part in the scenario that Patrick has in his head.

He knows that Patrick likes to see him dressed up in different costumes and uniforms; Patrick's told him so often enough . The only thing though is that all of the costumes are for women. Pete knows that the reason for that is both that Patrick is turned on by the sight of Pete in a skirt or dress but also because it humiliates Pete to put on the outfits.

It's something Patrick introduced very early on into their 'working relationship '. Patrick has a wardrobe in the other room completed filled with costumes; shoes, make-up and accessories. All of them are things that he's brought for Pete; Patrick doesn't dress up. He likes to play out scenarios with Pete, and when he takes Pete to parties he often makes him dress up in one of the costumes.

The scenarios are bad enough but at least they're private. Pete hates the parties, the way people stare and leer at him, the comments they make and the way their hands will slide up his skirt to cup his ass or cock. Sometimes Patrick allows the touching, sometimes he doesn't; it depends on what type of mood he is in with Pete but he always makes it clear to everyone at the parties that Pete belongs to Patrick. If they want the use of Pete they have to pay like any other punter. Pete hopes that it's not one of those nights. He's feeling shaky and fragile as it is; there's a twisted irony to the fact that he just wants to curl up in Patrick's bed and sleep.

"Pete." Patrick sounds annoyed. He looks up. Patrick's is staring at him, obviously waiting for Pete to say something.

"Is it a party?" Pete asks, trying to keep his voice steady. He holds himself still as Patrick's fingers press hard against his throat.

"Does it matter? It's not as if you have any choice in the matter, Pete. If it were a party you'd still be all dressed up and by my side, like the good little whore that you are. Wouldn't you?" Patrick laughs and holds the pressure steady against Pete's throat. Pete is finding it's becoming harder to breathe comfortably but he daren't move away.

"But no," Patrick takes his fingers away and Pete draws in a shuddering breath. "It's not a party – just you and me. So ..." he steps away from Pete and walks back to his desk, leaning up against it and crossing his arms. "Why don't you move your ass into the other room and get cleaned up and changed before I lose patience with you." His voice is lower now; harder and darker and Pete feels the effect shock through his body, he can already feel himself beginning to harden. Patrick's voice has always done that to him and Patrick knows exactly how to use it to great effect. Pete shivers and moves away from the door, crossing the room, all the time aware of Patrick's gaze upon him.

"Good girl." Patrick murmurs as Pete heads into the other room. Pete relaxes as he steps out of Patrick's presence and his thoughts flit to wondering what outfit Patrick has put out for him. This room is bigger than Patrick's office; there's a large couch that is also a pull out bed, a plasma TV and game consoles, a large music system and the wardrobe full of Pete's costumes.

That's not all there is though. Over to one side of the room is a wooden school desk with an old fashioned blackboard on the wall above it . There are lines remaining on it from the last time that Patrick made him write out, 100 times, I am Patrick's slut. There's also a smaller cupboard filed with Patrick's toys; whips, paddles, dildos and butt plugs, as well as a few more 'unusual' items, all of which he uses on Pete.

Around the room in strategic places there are iron rings attached to the walls, the ceiling and the floors. Over in another corner is the punishment stool. It's a semi-circular stool made of wood. It has sturdy legs and in the middle of the seat is a large carved cock. Pete knows exactly how it feels. He's been made to sit on it; his legs spread wide and tied to the legs of the stool, wooden cock hard and painful in his ass and a ball gag in his mouth. Plugged at both ends, just like a whore should be, as Patrick so kindly put it!

Pete drags his eyes away from it and heads over to the wardrobe, pulling a face when he sees which costume Patrick has put out for him. He glances over to the school desk noting now what he didn't the first time; the teacher's cane lying flat on the desk. So tonight Patrick wants to play schoolgirl and teacher – great!

Pete sighs but he knows that he'd better start getting ready. It doesn't pay to keep Patrick waiting and it's not like he has a choice. He strips off his clothes, folds them neatly and places them on a chair before going into the bathroom. He knows better than to drop them on the floor; Patrick doesn't like untidiness. Patrick has told him that he wants him clean, so clean he'll be. He needs to make sure all of his make-up and nail varnish are removed and that he doesn't smell of anybody else.

He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. His eyes are smudged and dark with mascara and eyeliner and his lips are swollen and red. He looks ... used. Not only that but he looks tired and wrung out. He needs a hit – a fix, something that will pick him up. It's been a few hours now since he's had any type of drug. He wets his hands and rubs face cleanser over his face, scrubbing off the make-up.

He's been through withdrawal on more than one occasion; at his own hands due to lack of money, and deliberately at Patrick's hands. When he tried to fight back the first time after realising what he'd become Patrick had simply let him walk out, had even opened the door for him. Telling him "You'll be back when you need the drugs, when you need me to supply them ... you'll be back." And Patrick had been right, of course. With no money and nowhere to go, not daring to show his face at his parents, it had only been a matter of time before he was back at Patrick's apartment, begging to be let in, to be given that needed fix. He'd been let back in, of course, but Patrick had refused to give him any drugs, keeping them away from him until he began to withdraw, crawling to Patrick and begging, apologising for his behaviour and promising to not leave again, tears and vomit staining his face as he stared up at Patrick, into Patrick's eyes.

It was only when he had admitted that he belonged to Patrick, that he was nothing more than Patrick's fucktoy - a junkie whore who should do as he was told - that Patrick had relented, holding Pete's shaking body as he administered the drugs. Pete had gone through withdrawal twice more since then, both times at Patrick's hands. They've both learnt what the threat of withdrawal will do to Pete and now he behaves, does what he's told and gets the drugs he craves and needs. He hates this weakness in himself, the addiction. He is disgusted by his own weakness, his inability to control himself, but he knows there's nothing he can do about it. He doesn't have the strength to fight it; he didn't before and he certainly doesn't now.

Pete sighs and turns away from the mirror. He turns on the shower and steps inside, his body relaxing despite everything under the hot water. Vigorously washing himself down he wishes it was as easy to wash away his life as it was the smells and residue of it. He works foam into his hands, making sure that he washes every single part of his body, washing away all the gel from his hair. He conditions his hair, running his fingers through it, untangling the 'bed hair' made by his activities earlier in the evening.

If he could he'd stand under this shower until the water ran cold, the cinnamon and sandalwood scent of the shower gel replacing that of sex, sweat and semen. He can't though; he doesn't have the time. He drags his fingers through his hair once more and washes off his face before stepping out of the shower. He picks up a towel and dries himself off. The movements are automatic. He's already thinking ahead; to the moment when he puts on the costume. How he'll feel then. Once dry he sprinkles some unscented talcum powder onto his hands and then spreads it over the inside of his thighs. The powder always helps him stop sweating too much when wearing skirts, easing the friction on his thighs when Patrick fucks him.

Pete stands in front of the mirror again and combs through his hair, pulling out the last of the knots before rubbing his hands over his eyes. He is so fucking tired; both in mind and body. That doesn't matter now though. What matters is that he keeps Patrick happy and settled. When Patrick is happy and settled he ensures that Pete is happy and settled by giving him drugs. Pete puts down the comb and picks up his make-up box from where it's stored on the floor. He keeps a good supply of his make-up here; the rest is at Patrick's apartment. He knows what he wants to wear and it doesn't take long to apply. Having seen the outfit he knows what will match and what Patrick will like to see him wearing. Just light make-up; he thinks over what he's got – green eye shadow, blusher and lip gloss. That should do it. He removes his nail varnish and then starts to apply the make-up. It doesn't take long, he's experienced at putting make-up on. When he's finished he looks into the mirror.

His reflection stares back. He looks younger and softer than he did earlier, the make-up he wears when he's working is his armour. This lighter, softer make-up strips that armour away, laying him bare. Oh, it's another disguise, another mask but this one has very few defences to it.

He turns away from the mirror, not wanting to look at himself anymore. Pete walks back into the other room, his feet sinking into the deep carpet, carpet he's grateful that Patrick had laid. He is on his knees often enough in this room to appreciate that it's not bare wood or laminate. His make-up is finished, now he just needs to put the outfit on, get into the required mindset and then wait for Patrick to finish up his work and come and find him.

Pete takes a deep breath and fetches the outfit. It's fairly standard; Patrick is nothing if not consistent in his kinks. There's a short green, black and red tartan skirt, a tight white collar t-shirt, striped tie, a couple of red hair bobbles, white calf length socks, plain white cotton panties and a pair of black canvas shoes.

He picks up the panties and steps into them, slides them up his legs. They're women's panties of course. He has a whole drawer full of female underwear; scraps of fabric that Patrick picks out and buys for him. Patrick has taken Pete shopping with him for the underwear in the past; not always but sometimes. He likes to see Pete flush and duck his head with embarrassment when Patrick asks the sales girls if they think that a particular set of underwear will suit Pete. There's every type of underwear in the drawer; classy, downright slutty and innocent like these. There are bras, briefs, thongs, , corsets and garter belts. Patrick likes to stick his hands down Pete's jeans and feel the way Pete's cock and balls strain against the soft fabric, likes Pete to come in his pants "like the dirty little slut that he is".

They're only for Patrick though, he won't allow Pete to wear them when he's working, as he won't any of the female clothing that Pete has. The underwear, the dressing up is Patrick's kink and he doesn't share it.

Pete tucks himself carefully into the pants and then pulls on the socks, shoes and top. He loops the tie around his neck and fastens it into a loose knot. It's almost exactly the same pattern as the skirt. Pete wonders if Patrick had to search to match them up or whether he bought them together. He doesn't ask though. He's not that interested.

He picks up the hair bobbles. His hair is longer than it used to be - Patrick won't let him cut it short. Longer hair is apparently better, allowing Patrick and Pete's customers to wrap their fingers into Pete's hair, controlling him with it as they force their cocks down his throat. He pulls his hair into two bunches, one on either side and secures them with the red bobbles. The thing is, he actually likes the dressing up, enjoys putting on a different persona, pulling it on as he does the clothes. It's just unfortunate that he has no choice when it happens or what he'll be wearing. It's all down to Patrick. Pete picks up the skirt and steps into it, slipping it up his legs and then zipping it up at the side and fastening the button. It barely covers his thighs! Pete steps back and turns to look at himself in the wardrobe mirror. He looks ... pretty and he smiles wryly.

Pete smoothes his hand over the short skirt; he likes the feel of the material against his thighs. The way the rough fabric shifts against his thighs, soft where he's shaved them. He can't remember the last time he ran his hands over his legs and felt hair. Patrick insists on Pete keeping his legs smooth and soft. Patrick likes to run his hands up and down Pete's legs, between his legs and over the smooth shaven skin around Pete's cock. Although he makes Pete shave his legs, chest and underarms it's Patrick who insists on taking on the task of shaving away Pete's pubic hair as Pete remains quiet and still under his hands, not daring to move for fear of being cut.

Pete continues to stare at himself as he runs his hands over the top and skirt. In some ways the outfit is liberating but it's also humiliating. He's as humiliated now as he was the first time Patrick made him dress up. In some respects it's worse now. It's worse because he's already beginning to harden under the white cotton pants. Pete doesn't want to be turned on by this but he's so fucking conditioned by Patrick now that he finds this a turn-on. No matter how unpleasant or humiliating it is, no matter how his mind screams at him that he shouldn't be turned on his body ignores him, is totally disconnected from his thoughts. It just feels and reacts. His body is now completely conditioned for pleasure, be it from drugs or sex. The pleasure that he feels at Patrick's hands disgusts him but he's powerless to do anything about it.

Arms slide around him and he looks up. Patrick is stood behind him. His eyes meet Pete's and they're dark with possessive lust.

"Well, aren't you the pretty thing." Patrick's voice is soft. Pete wants to tear his eyes away but he can't. He continues to stare as Patrick's hands run up and over his chest, flicking his nipples; already hard from the want coursing through him.

Patrick chuckles and moves his hands down over the skirt and then under. Pete wants to move away but he can't; he's caught between Patrick's arms, his body pulled tight against Patrick's own, Patrick's breath hot against his neck.

Pete trembles as Patrick's hands push his legs apart and his hands run up the inside of Pete's thighs then around to caress his ass before gripping his hips, pulling him closer so he can feel Patrick's erect cock pressing up against him. Without thinking about it, Pete's body bucks up, seeking Patrick's touch his head falling back to rest on Patrick's shoulder. Patrick moves his right hand around to the front and Pete moans as Patrick takes hold of his cock. Patrick's left hand pulls the skirt up and holds it above Pete's waist.

"Look at yourself. Look at what a dirty slut you are." The words are harshly said and Pete lifts his head at and the sound of them and gazes into the mirror. Patrick's expression is mocking as he stares back at him through the glass.

"You don't care, do you Pete? Whatever I do to you, you come back for more. You crave it; my touch and the way I make you feel. How you come from the pain and the pleasure. How you can't help yourself. "His breath is hot against Pete's skin and Pete shivers. "You don't want to be hard right now do you? If you could you'd crawl away into a dark room and hide, as far away from me as you could possibly get but you can't help yourself. You're an addict, a double junkie. You'll never be anything else. You know that. You're only worthwhile to me. Look at yourself." His voice turns harder. "Your legs spread, cock hard, body arching up for my touch. You're nothing but a whore and a junkie; both for my drugs and my cock but do you even know which one you crave more? Do you?" Patrick laughs again, the sound darker and Pete shivers. "What's that quote, Pete? Oh yes - all sins tend to be addictive, and the terminal point of addiction is damnation. It's true, isn't it? You're damned and there's nothing you can do about it."

He lets go of Pete and steps back. Pete closes his eyes. Before he can stop himself he's turned and dropped to his knees in front of Patrick, the skirt spreading over his thighs. Everything Patrick said was true. Pete knows it, they both know it. He wants and needs Patrick. He can't help himself,himself; no matter how shameful it makes him feel. He shuffles forward and presses his face up against Patrick's thighs, the denim rough against his skin. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of Patrick; it's sweaty and musky and Pete moans softly and mouths at the denim. He feels heady lost in the scent; the feel of Patrick, the closeness of him. He places his hands on Patrick's legs, holding himself steady as desire sweeps over him. Pete closes his eyes and continues to mouth at Patrick's thighs, inarticulate sounds escaping his mouth. Patrick's hand slides over his hair and down his face and throat, picking up the end of Pete's tie.

Patrick allows him to continue rubbing his mouth against Patrick's jeans for a few moments and then Pete feels a sharp tug at his neck and he opens his eyes. He looks up. Patrick is staring down at him; his eyes dark and his right hand tightly holding the end of Pete's school tie. It's not tight enough to choke him but it's enough that Pete knows he's holding it.

"Mine." Patrick tells him. "My whore ... my dirty little junkie. Mine!"  
.  
He pulls the tie tighter. "Do you understand, Pete? Mine." The words are snarled now, the tie is tight around his neck and Pete nods. After all what else can he do?

"Yours," the word is gasped out, and it's true. He belongs to Patrick and he knows he'll never get away. He is as Patrick named him; terminally damned.


End file.
